


Of Something that Will Never Last

by myblueworld



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3423236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myblueworld/pseuds/myblueworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What they have is a fragile thing, and Silva always feels that whatever it is that they have between them, whatever that’s left with them, it won’t last for so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Something that Will Never Last

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song Skinny Love. It’s originally sung by Bon Iver, but I also like the cover version from Birdy

_***_

>   _Come on skinny love, just last the year  
>  __Pour a little salt we were never here_

What they have is a fragile thing, and Silva always feels that whatever it is that they have between them, whatever that’s left with them, it won’t last for so long. It will end sooner than later, even though Silva wishes that it will last a little bit longer. What he knows, is the pattern that they hang on, from one international game to the other. And after one game finishes, he hopes that another call-up will come, just to make it last a little longer.

Such a wishful thinking to hope that it will last forever. None of them is getting any younger, and soon, one of them will no longer be on the list.

It’s been in his mind all this time. That it’s all just a wishful thinking. It’s something bittersweet but without the sweet anymore.

They know that they have each other, but at the same time they don’t have each other, not in the way that they want to. And it’s just another salt on the pain of wanting something so bad but knowing that it will never be.

And no matter how he once (and maybe he still does) wished that it will last, when Silva opens his door and finds Villa standing there, right before his eyes, he knows that it won’t. It will not last. It will never last.

“What are you doing here?” Silva cringes at his own words, as it sounds colder than he intends them to be.

Villa shrugs his shoulder. “I want to see you.”

Silva leans his shoulder against the door frame. “And why do you want to see me?”

Villa stares at him, like he is surprised that Silva just asked him that question. “Because I want to talk to you…”

His words hang there in uncertainty, as if he is not sure whether he meant it as a statement or as a question.

Silva turns away his head. With hands folded on his chest, he tries to breathe normally with his eyes fixed on the dark wood of the window frame.

Villa says nothing. Just waiting. Until Silva takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh. He quickly grabs his coat from the hanger near the door.

“Well, let’s talk then.” He says, and closes the door behind him. From the corner of his eyes, he can see the confusion in Villa’s eyes as he walks away from the door.

Silva stops walking, just two steps away from where Villa stands. He sighs again, and turns his neck to look at Villa.

“We can talk. But somewhere else. Not here.”

He’s not going to let Villa walks in again. Because when he does let him to do so, he will hopelessly wish that it will last, when it will not. It will never last.

 

_***_

 

> _Tell my love to wreck it all,_
> 
> _Cut out all the ropes and let me fall_

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Villa closes his eyes to hear Silva’s words. The words sound so bitter, and Villa wonders how they taste in Silva’s tongue when they slip out from his lips. He opens his eyes, and finds Silva, looking at something out there, beyond the window.

“And you can’t just do this, Guaje. You can’t just…suddenly pop out in front of my door like this.”

Villa stares at Silva, who still refuses to look at him. Thin mist coming out from the cup in front of Siva, disappears into the air, leaving nothing but a faint smell of coffee. And it makes Villa wishes that memories of what they have between them, are just like that mist. Easily gone, fades into the air and left nothing but blur traces.

“It’s all screwed up, huh? I screwed up with everything, I guess…” Villa says.

Slowly, Silva turns his head around, so their eyes locked to each other. And as always, Villa lost in those eyes, dark, a contrast to his skin. And he always looks paler here in Manchester. He looks so pale, those freckles in his face looks even more obvious. And Villa has to hold himself from tracing those freckles, like what he used to do, some times ago.

There is a vague smile in those lips, a vague smile that barely there, that does not reach Silva’s dark eyes.

“It’s all been screwed up anyway since forever.” He says, voice heavy with irony.

Villa nods but at the same time he wants to shake his head, because it’s just so ironic that Silva has screwed up his mind and his life by being one of the best thing that ever crossed his path.

“I guess I am nothing but a total mess right now.” He says quietly.

Silva’s lips open partly, as if he wants to say something. But then he closes his lips again, stretching it to a thin line, leaving a suffocating silence that hangs between them.

“I have to go now.”

Silva stands up, and walks away from the table. Leaving Villa there in a small coffee shop in Manchester, with a memory of how he has fallen for Silva because of countless reasons. And how he is falling into the darkness now as Silva walks out the door.

Villa bits his lower lips, taking the last sip of his coffee. He almost smiles at the sudden realization of how a cup of coffee reminds him of them. Dark and bitter.

He stands up, and makes his way to the door with wide steps.

_***_

 

> _And I told you to be patient. And I told you to be fine_

It’s cold, it’s always cold in Manchester. But that familiar deep voice sends even a colder stab to his heart.

“I don’t ask much. I just…hope that you can wait.”

Silva stops walking, and looks up to the grey sky of Manchester. Without looking, he can feel Villa stops walking too, and stands next to him. Too close, but too far away. Too close that it only makes it even heavier for him to breathe. Too far as Silva knows that the bridge between them is burning down.

Silva smiles, that sad, tired smile of irony on Villa’s word. “What for anyway? What is it that I should be waiting?”

Villa looks away from him. He has no answer for this.

And Silva thinks, how unfair it is if anyone ever ask him to be patient. All of this time, he’s always been patient, being nothing but a shadow, being nothing but an option that Villa would never choose anyway. But his patience eventually comes to the end of the line.

Villa reaches out for his hand, and lacing their fingers together.

It’s cold. It’s always cold in Manchester. But the cold feeling from the ring on Villa’s finger that touches Silva’s skin is the coldest thing that burns his heart with pain.

“I just want you to be fine. To be okay.”

Silva tightens his fingers on Villa, for one last time, and then let it go. He stares at Villa’s eyes.

“I will be fine. I will be okay,” he says, shivering at the finality of his words.

And then he walks away.

He doesn’t look back.

And he knows, he can feel that Villa stays there, standing there.

It’s better that way.

_***_

 

> _And now all your love is wasted_
> 
> _And then who the hell was I?_

Villa stands there, watching the back of Silva getting farther and farther. He knows that there’s no turning back for him, for Silva, for both of them. Now that everything has been wasted, he only recognizes himself as a complete mess,that has been totally wrecked down.

_***_

 

> _And I’m breaking at the britches_
> 
> _And at the end of all your lines_

Silva drives to Carrington. Feeling numb. Now that the bridge between them has been crashed and burn, he has nothing left but to let it go and move on, no matter how pathetic and cliché it may sound. But there is that small voice at the back of his head that still longing, to find about the answers of those questions that remain unasked.

_***_

 

> _Who will love you?_
> 
> _Who will fight?_
> 
> _Who will fall far behind?_

Villa looks at the white clouds from the window, next to his seat on the plane. It’s a long way from Manchester to New York. And in just a few days, the distance between them would be even greater once he moves to Melbourne. But that physical distance is nothing compared to the invisible yet devastating gap between their hearts now.

Villa looks at the white clouds from the window, but what he sees are flashes of Silva. And he wonders, he wonders whether Silva sees what he sees when his teammates look at Silva. Because the way his teammates look at him, the way they pull him into their arms, the way they just be around him, one should easily see how they adore Silva.

Villa looks at the white clouds from the window, wondering whether Silva realizes how easily one will fall for him, whether he realizes that he just effortlessly makes people attracted to him. As he, he was, and he still, hopelessly thinks about Silva more than he should.

Someone will fall for Silva, will fight for him.

And Villa will be the one far behind.

Villa looks at the white clouds from the window and feels nothing, nothing but the pain in his chest.


End file.
